Melbourne designer Brahman Perera has made a name for himself through interiors that balance restraint with richness, layering materials and textures to create spaces that feel considered and personal. His latest project is also his most personal—Elm Park, his own country home styled with pieces from King Living. Here, he discusses the challenge of designing for himself, what slow living means in practice and how to balance flavours in interior design.
How did designing for yourself change your approach to the process and outcome?
I’m not great at designing for myself—it feels like a cliche, but I (and most creatives I suspect) typically leave things for our life at the bottom of the list of priorities. This project felt easier in that it’s actually a very modest space, anchored by one large room. We have moved a few times and lived in a variety of different spaces, so we are now feeling quite comfortable with our way of living and prioritising how we want to live and work in ‘our space’—so in that sense the moves felt very natural, very practical and intuitive in a way. The focus for us was always on celebrating all the many interesting and varying pieces we have collected over the last two decades and displaying them in a pleasing and sensitive way to enjoy and have the house feel like ‘us’.
What does “slow living” mean to you in practice and how is that expressed through design?
The current state of the world—life, work, home—in my opinion, is one that is a little too frenetic, too focused on the immediacy of response, the hurry to get things completed and the lack of consideration—in all meanings of that word. In every aspect of my current life—work and personal—I am trying to mitigate this ‘hurry’. Proper consideration, the correct decisions, informed and sensitive outcomes can only be achieved if you give them the breathing space they deserve. I’ve worked with a saying I first read in the New York Times in 2019 by Bonnie Tsui, it first made it on to my ‘out of office’ email response, but now sits firmly at the bottom of my email signature at all times: ‘To do the work, we need to rest, to read, to reconnect. It is the invisible labour that makes creativity possible.’ And I truly believe in this and am so pleased with the amount of people who resonate with this and write to me about it.
You’ve styled the home with King Living pieces. Which are your favourites and how do they complement the way you live in the space?
Working with King Living was a delight because they were happy to have some fun and play with me and the pieces and see them in a new light. Mixing fabrics, breaking pieces up in different finishes and reimagining the layout with both monolithic and dainty pieces from the collection was a joy to play with. The Haven sofa is one of my absolute favourite pieces—important for our daily life as a couple, but also to host friends and family—the flexibility of the pieces is both intimate and cosy and friendly and convivial for larger parties.
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How do you balance restraint and richness when layering materials?
The balancing act is a delicate one—but I would say people need to trust their judgement and think of it in a way that makes sense to them. I will often explain this layering concept in terms of food—everyone these days (thanks to MasterChef or Come Dine with Me!) has a good barometer for how food and their sensory reaction is—is it missing something wet, something crunchy, something salty, something with an unexpected ‘pop’? It’s the same with interiors—a singular monotone space might still work and be calming if we work with different textured or layers of tonality—just as a richer more diverse space needs to be tempered with larger simpler shapes of finishes to balance the overall look. Trust your judgment, balance the flavours and you won’t go wrong.
How did the surrounding environment influence your spatial layout and mood?
Nature is the artwork at this home—we are fortunate to have vistas out in every direction and we celebrate these with the placement of furniture—I know that in the afternoon on a Sunday I can have a nap and know that the sunlight can gently warm my face, or that in the morning the light hits the breakfast table for reading the paper and setting out the day.
Finally, what does “home” represent to you right now? Is it a retreat, a studio for living, or something else entirely?
Home is where my family is. We are fortunate to have a space in which we can personalise, but without the family to make it feel like ‘home’ it’s simply a building in which we inhabit.
